


the neon god they made

by pooryorik



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, first fic, groundhog day theory even though its flawed, john and wiley have a Past, john cant handle feelings so he ignores them, talkin to interdimensional beings in dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pooryorik/pseuds/pooryorik
Summary: parley (verb)par·ley | \ ˈpär-lē  \parleyed; parleyingDefinition of parleyintransitive verb: to speak with another : CONFERspecifically : to discuss terms with an enemy
Relationships: Wilbur Cross/John McNamara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	the neon god they made

The void was tangible; from all directions, the only thing John could see was a swirling, liquid black. He had no memory of getting here, but he knew exactly why he was walking into this endless void. The small splashes his boots made in whatever the ground was echoed into infinity. John MacNamera waited patiently.  
Finally, Wiley came. A slow, languid chuckle came from behind him.  
“Hel-lo, naughty list.”  
John didn’t have to turn to meet him. Five feet away, impossibly, stood what seemed to be Wilbur Cross.  
“Wilbur?”  
“We both know that man doesn’t matter anymore, Johnny, and anyways we weren’t expecting you ‘till morning’, darling-and then wasn’t our dear fresh-faced Howie supposed to greet me?”  
Wiley’s eyes shone white- like spotlights. He looked like he hadn’t slept in decades. Every shadow in his face dug deep and made him blend even more into the Black.  
“I came for parlance. Arbitration.”  
The energies swirling around Wiley became angry, intensified.  
“You make yourself out to be some kind of fukin’ messiah, huh? An army of AKs and stupid boys your flock? You’re just a man, John.”  
“We both know that’s not quite true.” They did, though Wiley knew a little more than John. John was as stuck in this dance as much as any of the humans. Wiley had watched him die maybe fifty times by now- aliens, meteors, every round was the same. This time, though? It was the Black’s turn. And, consequently, Wiley’s chance. Every new chance, every new threat. John was so goddamned confident. So good. Every time completely self-assured that PEIP could placate the threat at hand and move on, the larger world none the wiser.  
“You wanna know the why then, eh, sweetheart? I forget that the why matters so much to you people still.”  
“Why do you seek to destroy? Why do you seek to turn your back on everything we believe in and fought for? Yes, I would say so.” Wiley smiled a bit to himself. He had forgotten that John was so fetching like this- righteously outraged. No matter how childlike it may be.  
“In essence, they call it the ‘rat race’ for a reason, loverboy. One day I looked, and I saw. Bills, mortgages, loans, Twinkies, flatscreens, Chuck-E-Cheese, McDonald’s. If America is the great experiment, capitalism is it’s laboratory. You all are the rats. Fattened on the concept of freedom and ran through the maze of corporate existence. Anything real, pure, unprofitable, is crushed. Ad infinitum. Love doesn’t pay and isn’t tangible and so you chase products that promise it until you rot in yet another product. I couldn’t find an answer- Communism, anarchy, they were all just different laboratories, some even more impossible than the others. Now Wiggly; he had the answer.”  
“I’ll admit capitalism is flawed, but so is existence. So is the Love you claim to know of.”  
“Claim to?”  
“You cannot know of it, come now..”  
Wiley laughed hollowly, the wolfish smile fading as soon as it came.. He took one finger and rapped three times over his heart. ‘’Wilbur knew. He still adores you. It’s pitiful.”  
John ignored the weight that statement came with. When the time comes.  
“You said he was dead.”  
Wiley clicked his tongue. “No-no, I said he did not matter. Which he doesn’t. You see, even after being torn apart and put back together a thousand times, some things about the human soul are irritatingly stubborn.”  
John took a step closer. “But he’s still there. And he’s you.”  
Wiley’s eyes began to flicker as the green around them intensified. He heard giggles around them and Wilbur hoped to God he could protect John from seeing the Sniggle’s true form. “He is not me. I am nothing. Nowhere. I chose to become an agent of the awnser.”  
John finally relented to the question that was always going to be asked right here, right now.  
“What is the answer?”  
The Black melted away and they were in the safehouse in Middlesbrough. John’s hair was short again- he was clean shaven. It was about four years ago- one of their first solo joint PEIP missions. They were there for only about a week, to cover up a Wendigo incident and make it look like some run-of-the-mill serial killer. John had confessed some things here; as had Wilbur. Memories were treacherous things and heartache was for men with less responsibilities than the fate of humanity on their head. .  
He walked through the barebones kitchen to the barren living room and there, sobbing on the ground- was Wilbur. His eyes weren’t white, didn’t glow- they were dark and shining and completely blessedly human. John met him on the ground. You’re not gone. I can save you. I will save you.  
He knelt down to Wilbur- who looked up at him and immediately pulled John into a fast kiss; hard and desperate. They didn’t have time to talk. It began to seem more and more that time was cruel.  
John held Wilbur’s head against his chest, still kneeling on that godforsaken shag carpet. He didn’t want to cry, but it seemed he had no choice. For one blessed moment they held each other, breath ragged but in time. John wondered how much pain one man really can bear.  
Green light began to seep in the creases in the walls- the safehouse began to melt away as two, massive, glowing lights appeared in front of them. Wilbur relaxed and stilled in John’s arms  
Wiley pulled away from John and slowly rose to meet his eyes. They mirrored the spotlights behind him, which he undoubtedly knew were there. He held John’s face in a way that was far more tender than it had any right to be, and so cold- fingers turning to tendrils as they wrapped around John’s head, joining the Black.  
A thousand whispers joined Wiley when he finally answered the question.

“ O B L I V I O N “ . 

\---

John woke with a start in his bed at 0317 hours, himself again. He wiped the tears that remained on his face. No time for that.  
I can still save you.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! first fic so please be gentle/or even validate me- this is a thing! it sure is here


End file.
